So we decided to settle down for a rest under one of the mushroom-shaped rocks and had a light bite of whatever we had on us at the time. The weather gradually improved, and the sun even broke out from behind the clouds. After that we just lazed about, lying on the ground and soaking up the warmth. Then came the descent from the Mushrooms, back to base camp, and the usual round of camp chores — washing, cooking, dinner, and finally sleep. I felt genuinely unwell that day: my stomach kept bothering me, I felt a bit nauseous, and had cramps. On top of that my appetite had vanished completely, and I had to force food down. I suspected altitude sickness was setting in, though at that point we were only at about two and a half thousand metres, which made me wonder whether it was too early for that — maybe something else was behind how I was feeling. After I took a vitamin C tablet, my condition improved considerably before long and I felt like myself again. Getting a little ahead of the story, I should say that afterwards I never noticed even the slightest symptom of altitude sickness again.
Editorial note. Feeling better after taking vitamin C in this personal account does not prove that vitamin C was what resolved the underlying cause. Vitamin C should not be used as a treatment for altitude illness. Headache, nausea, weakness and other symptoms can have several different causes; report them to your guide and do not continue ascending until your condition has been assessed. High-altitude safety guidance: CDC Yellow Book.
As for what I took away from that day, the first thing I’d say is that on a trip like this it really helps to have more than one pair of boots. You want a light pair with Gore-Tex for acclimatisation outings, and a heavier pair — with or without Gore-Tex — suited to longer spells in serious cold. As it happened, I only had a mid-weight pair, and those were what I used for both acclimatisation and the summit push itself. Everything went fine and I didn’t get frostbite, but I did have to fuss constantly with drying that one single pair of boots.
I’d say vitamin C really shouldn’t be neglected — one tablet is plenty for an adult. I also can’t help mentioning that succinic acid is genuinely good at lifting your mood. Definitely bring a foam sit-pad with you — it’s wonderful to rest on, a real godsend on the trail. As for me, back then I just sat on my rucksack, which isn’t a great solution, since you risk crushing something inside it.
By the third day in the mountains we had a supply carry planned — food along with things like ice axes, crampons and other essential mountain gear. As soon as we’d had breakfast we set off for a height of three thousand eight hundred metres — though not the same three thousand eight hundred metres that northern climbers usually pass through. We chose to follow a route that, essentially, isn’t really a marked trail at all. I should note there wasn’t a single human footprint along our path — only the occasional small cairn of stacked stones to confirm we were going the right way. Our guide knew the route well, so there was never really any room for doubt. It runs through genuinely magical terrain: it starts with a properly steep climb straight out of base camp, then heads off towards the north-eastern slope of Elbrus itself. The green grassy slopes give way very quickly to signs of past volcanic activity, along with rock broken down into fine rubble. All the way up to about three thousand three hundred to three thousand four hundred metres you can see thick stands of daisies — genuinely, breathtakingly beautiful, a real feast for the eyes. The green oases keep giving way to dry, seemingly lifeless moraines. Eventually we made it up onto the ridge. From its left side we could make out Kalitskiy Peak, part of the Caucasus range, and a glacial river; on the right, the scenery kept changing with every kilometre. Along the way we got to properly admire a beautiful azure crater lake, which on our first ascents hadn’t yet filled with water — though on the day of our actual summit push we did see it full. But that comes later; for now we kept climbing. Somewhere past the three-thousand-four-hundred-metre mark the going got genuinely hard, the lack of acclimatisation starting to tell, and the trail itself became very different from the easier, more walk-like terrain before it. Without exaggeration, we reached three thousand eight hundred metres purely on willpower — we were utterly worn out. We stashed all the food we’d carried up, along with the ice axes and crampons, under some rocks, and settled down to wait for the rest of our group, who had chosen a different route. While we waited we even managed to grab a little sleep.
I also can’t skip mentioning that at around three thousand metres you find these vivid, living pockets of nature. We were all genuinely delighted by the moss, which sprang back underfoot at every step and sometimes gave an almost weightless feeling — and it leaves no footprints at all. I should also mention the local wildlife: at around two thousand eight hundred metres and a little lower you can see cows grazing, and there are genuinely quite a lot of them. As soon as we dropped fifty metres we came out from under the hail and carried on. With our packs much lighter by then, walking felt far easier, and on the loose scree slopes there were even moments when you wanted to run as if skiing down them. Then fog closed in again and we started to lose our bearings, but in the end we did make it back to base camp. After that we had dinner and turned in. That was actually when I tried out, firsthand, the trick of drying gear inside a sleeping bag — I put my still-damp thermal base layer against my legs, and by morning it really was dry. The next morning we had to strike our tents and head towards the high camp, on our moraine. Looking back on our third day in the mountains, I’d say this: if you’re heading into the mountains, never go it alone — always go with a guide, and don’t skip extra acclimatisation outings. Remember, there’s no room in the mountains for laziness or fear. I can say with full confidence that all of us got a proper acclimatisation in. As for me personally, after that bout of nausea I never once felt unwell at altitude again — my appetite was excellent, my mood was great, and I was in the best shape of the group! That upbeat mood was put to the test by the height of five thousand six hundred and twenty-one metres — but even that formidable altitude couldn’t take away our high spirits, and we kept joking and enjoying ourselves.
Ahead of us lay the push to Lenz Rocks and the summit attempt itself. Loaded with huge packs, we kept moving step by step, in one shared rhythm. I can’t help saying a word or two about that walking rhythm itself. On flat ground I’ve never kept to one steady pace — I always find it far more comfortable to walk fast, or even to jog uphill in bursts. This time, though, I decided to try walking in lockstep with the climber ahead of me. I’ll say there really is something special about moving that way: with no sudden bursts or stops, the mood stayed good throughout, and mood always has a real effect on how well the intermediate climbs go. For myself, I’ll admit I really don’t like walking monotonously — I always find it matters to me to step left, then right, and to dash ahead and upward a little now and then, ideally to get a photo of the group ahead. Because of that, climbing is genuinely not easy for me on a psychological level — my impatience tends to show. I’ll say I’ve never really liked walking in groups, since like it or not you end up having to match the shared pace. We were walking the north-eastern trail at that point, and it’s worth noting that very few people actually walk it. It has several genuinely difficult sections.